


Of Bruises and Bullies

by LazyTrash



Series: Rivamika AUs [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Romance, College student!Mikasa, Cutesy, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gyms, Just Kiss Already You Idiots, Levi is In Denial (Shingeki no Kyojin), Levi is Whipped (Shingeki no Kyojin), Martial Arts, Mikasa is Oblivious, Oh My God, Overprotective Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Rated T for my language, martial arts instructor!Levi, rivamika, veteran!Levi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26880754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyTrash/pseuds/LazyTrash
Summary: After a long, successful military career, being a martial arts instructor is both peaceful and demanding enough of a job to satisfy and appease Levi’s adjustment back into civilian society. His friend and former military superior, Erwin Smith, offered him a spot in his relatively new but well-regarded gym, Wings of Freedom.It’s a good job, relatively high paying, but when he’s forced to take up a new, older batch of students, he meets a tall, annoyingly defiant and mysterious woman with chin-length hair as dark as midnight and eyes as cold as iron who seems to love giving him a headache.If this was what agreeing to this job had entailed… well, then.He should’ve read the damn fine print.***A story of how martial arts instructor and former soldier Levi Ackerman falls in love with a student in his class, Mikasa Ackerman (and refuses to acknowledge his maybe-kinda-sorta feelings).I have no idea where I where I was going with this, but I've noticed that the RM fandom has been a bit...depressinglately, so I wrote this in hopes of maybe helping boost morale, if only for a little while.
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman/Levi
Series: Rivamika AUs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984861
Comments: 37
Kudos: 119





	Of Bruises and Bullies

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I'm not sure how well-liked modern-ish!AU fics are in the Rivamika fandom— I myself prefer reading canon or canon-related fics but it's been so sad lately :( And anyways, the RM dynamic is way too good to pass up lol 
> 
> I've always liked thinking up AU situations (I've never been good with writing in canonverse; I've tried before and it's hard). But most of all, messing around and agonizing over RM dynamics/character relationships is my cup of tea 😊 
> 
> I tend to ramble a lot lol, and it shows, both here and in the story lol anyways hope you like it!

* * *

There are times when Levi wondered if becoming a martial arts instructor was the right choice after a long military career that saw several commendations, scars across his face and body, two missing fingers, and one hurting leg (he refused to call it lame). At the time of his honorable discharge, he’d been itching to move— though months of bed rest were the contributing factor to this— and his old friend Erwin Smith reached out with a job offer in his gym that scratched that itch. Without ruminating on it further, Levi accepted immediately. 

He should’ve read the damn fine print.

Arms crossed, Levi barks out to his class, “Alright brats. Before we end class for today, partner up and go through your cooldown stretches for ten minutes.” 

Fourteen pairs of scared, wide eyes stare up at him. A part of Levi’s heart melts at their innocence— not that he’d ever admit it— so in retaliation, he snaps, “What did I _just_ tell you, idiots?” The kids immediately do as he says, practically scrambling over each other in their haste to follow his instructions. Unbidden, his lips tug up in a half-smile. It’s not the kids that make him regret becoming a martial arts instructor.

Glancing to the side, where shocked, defiant mothers glaring at him in fury sit, Levi thinks grimly that yes, indeed, it’s not the kids he heavily dislikes. 

Soon after meditation, the class ends and families quickly disperse (with a few ill-disguised dirty looks pointed at his back). Levi cocks his head to the side when he sees Erwin and Hange standing near the double-doors connecting to the main gym. Erwin reclines against the wall, smirking, while Hange has to lean against the tempered glass, laughing their merry ass off. 

“Oh, Levi,” Shitty Glasses says in between guffaws, “if looks could kill…”

Levi rolls his eyes, wiping the sweat away from his forehead with the towel around his neck. “I didn’t survive Marley just to be killed off by housewives babying their sheltered kids,” he mutters. “For fuck’s sake, the youngest one is almost ten years old. The oldest is _sixteen._ They’re _all_ old enough to be yelled at, and Maria knows they all need a backbone in this world.”

“Still pretty young,” Erwin comments. “And the way you yell at the kids is enough to make any mother defensive.”

“You asked me to be a martial arts instructor. This is how I instruct my martial arts class.” 

“Well, at least you get the job done.” Erwin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anyways, that’s not the reason I’m here, Levi.” Not liking the nonchalance in Erwin’s tone, Levi plops down on a chair, water bottle in hand. Taking several gulps of water, he keeps his eyes on the blond, silently urging him to continue. “Since you’re doing such a great job with your first two classes, I was thinking you should instruct another one, for older students.”

Levi nearly spits out his water. It’s only about two decades of military discipline and a lifetime of keeping a blank, cool facade that keeps him from actually doing so. “No,” he tells Erwin. “Fuck no.”

Erwin tilts his head. “Good thing you’re not the owner of this gym,” he says lightly. At this, Hange snickers behind their hand and Levi glares at them. The annoyance he feels for Shitty Glasses is nothing compared to Erwin’s next words, though. 

“I’ve already started sign-ups a week ago. You’ll be having another class— beginner to intermediate level— with older students, all 18 and above, next month.”

Fucking shit. He should’ve read the damn fine print.

* * *

Eleven students. That’s less than his other classes, but eleven more people he really doesn’t want to deal with. _'F_ _uck you, Erwin,'_ Levi curses.

There are eleven students in this class. Two are, at the most, 18-year-olds; four of them look like they’re in their early-to-mid-20s; two look like they’re nearing their 30s; _those_ two are obviously well into their 30s and maybe 40s; and… wait. After a quick head count, Levi quickly amends there _should_ be eleven students, not ten. He frowns. Either someone dropped out and didn't notify Erwin or they’re late.

He hopes for the missing student’s sake that it’s the former. Tardiness is not something he so easily excuses.

The second the clock shows ‘19:00’, Levi yells at everyone to gather in straight rows. Besides the two maybe-18-year olds, everyone does as they are told without an inch of fear in their eyes, which Levi grudgingly appreciates. That’s one benefit of having an adult class, he supposes. Everyone gets shit done without any complications. 

Once everyone is settled, Levi, in his usual commanding tone, tells them, “Since all of us here are adults, I expect you to hold yourselves like adults. Respect yourselves and each other. No horseplaying when we spar or practice. No stupid questions. Try to arrive at least 10 minutes before class starts, and try not to skip a class; the lessons will pile up, and if you miss one, you miss everything. Most of all, _do_ _not_ be late to my class. Either arrive at least ten minutes before, or be _punctual."_ He emphasizes the last word, each syllable falling like bullets from his lips.

The male maybe-18-year-old slowly raises his hand, and Levi resists the urge to roll his eyes. “If you have a question, no need to raise your hand like a fucking kindergartner. What is it, brat?”

The kid looks like he’s ready to piss his pants, but he gathers his courage and asks, “What if we _need_ to miss a class?” Oh fucking Maria. One of _those_ students.

“Then you miss one. I’m not your fucking keeper,” Levi replies, annoyance seeping into his words. “Any other questions?” No one responds, and Levi assumes that’s a no, so he continues, “Not only will I teach you the various forms of martial arts I’ve learned in my military career, but— just as important— discipline and responsibility. In fact, martial arts and discipline go hand in hand. Who knew?” he adds dryly, almost to himself, and a few students smile at his sharp sarcasm. 

Levi continues, “As such, I will format this class to help build your discipline and responsibility. So, for every class, before we begin and after we end, I expect you all to clean the floors and mirrors while I take care of the mats. The mops and brooms will be inside that closet.” He points to the wooden doors at the side.

“I shouldn’t see a single speck of dust after I close up. If I do, you will regret it the next class meeting. How you decide who cleans and when is up to you, but I expect _everyone_ to share this responsibility. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir!” 

“Good.” Levi nods. “Now, everyone stand up and make two rows for some quick warm-ups.” 

Over the next ten-ish minutes, Levi leads the class through a series of stretches. It’s obvious that most of them aren’t very athletic or don’t exercise much, which Levi plans on remedying as quickly as possible. Though he has his own complaints with his current job— it’s the mothers, honestly, _and_ Erwin and his overbearingness— Levi knows he’s good at shaping people to be their best, at _leading_ and setting an example; he’d already done that many times for his squads back when he still served in the Corps. 

He’s on his last stretch when he notices Erwin and Shitty Glasses lingering outside the glass doors. He locks eyes with Erwin for a few moments, who sighs and sends Hange inside. Levi smothers a smirk. Not quite the person he’d wanted— Erwin, the _coward—_ but Shitty Glasses is a good alternative.

“Everyone,” he calls out once they’re all on their feet. “Listen up. This is Hange Zoe, co-owner of this gym. They’ll be helping us out for every class, especially with the partner exercises later.” The constipated look of realization and horror on Hange’s face immediately brightens his day. Obviously, they’d figured out that Erwin had thrown them under the bus.

For the next hour, he goes over some basic stances, blocks, punches, jabs, and kicks. The students are all woefully, pathetically weak, which Levi is disappointed over. He’d thought that Erwin had said the class was beginner to intermediate level. He hadn’t expected them all to be novices.

Levi and Hange quickly make their rounds, checking each student’s techniques. He’s in the middle of correcting the last pair when the entrance flies open, catching everyone’s attention. Annoyed, Levi barks at everyone to continue and stalks across the room to the woman hovering around the entrance door. Crossing his arms and glaring up at her— _she’s so much taller than he’d thought_ — he says calmly, “It’s almost eight o’clock. Class started at seven sharp. You’re _late."_ Barbed wire laces his tone, but the woman, clad in a long sleeved shirt, tight yoga pants, and ratty red scarf, barely flinches.

Instead, she inclines her head. “I apologize sir. My last class ran late and I missed the bus. It won’t happen again.” Her words are polite, but the way she says them rankles the fuck out of him. Insubordination practically drips off those words.

He steps closer to her, growling, “It better not. I _despise_ tardiness. I won’t tolerate it at all next time. Is that understood, brat?” 

“Yes sir.” The woman looks at him then, stubborn defiance clear in her eyes, and he’s momentarily taken aback by the long eyelashes framing dark grey, the scar on her porcelain skin, pert nose, and the slightest curve of her upper lip covered by her frayed scarf. Her dark eyes, porcelain skin, and slender body reveal her Oriental— no, Asian, Levi has to correct himself— descent.

He’s quick to shake off his surprise though and he demands, pointing, “Stretch in the corner for about fifteen minutes. You’re going to need it for the next part of class. Oh, and take off that shitty scarf, brat. It’s dirty as fuck and you won’t need it in this class.” Ignoring her acerbic glower, Levi pivots on his heels and returns to his other students.

He watches her out of the corner of his eyes as he combs through each pair and corrects every mistake. From what he sees in her stretches alone, she’s very flexible, and he can see the slightest hint of muscle definition in her arms and legs underneath all the layers of clothing. She’s clearly athletic, and he bets that it's probably because of her that Erwin tacked on the “intermediate” level to this class. He’d rather sleep in a dusty room than admit that he’s excited to see what she’s capable of, though. 

Once he’s satisfied by the students’ progress, he calls for everyone’s attention. The late woman stands in the second row, and he manages to shake off the weight of her glare to focus on the next part. He hides a smirk. He’s really looking forward to the next class section.

“Alright brats,” he declares. “This is when the _real_ lesson begins.” Nearly everyone blanches at the anticipation in his voice. 

Normally, as all his students prior to today had all been minors, he would only have one-and-a-half hours to go over stances, punches, blocks, and kicks, maybe some controlled sparring, and a couple _kata_ or _poomsae_ to tie it all together. Because of worried, overprotective mothers, he doesn’t bother to add full-contact sparring to the list. But now, since all of his new students are legal adults and not at all forced to stay at martial arts lessons because of parents… well, he can make the class as hard as he humanly can. Because _fuck you, Erwin;_ the blond may be the owner of the gym but this is Levi’s method of instruction— pain, hard work, discipline, and more pain.

“You’ve seen the outside of this gym, yes?” A few warily nod, and some of them even exchange fearful glances. “We’ll be jogging a few laps in single file around it for about five, ten minutes. This will be our first warm-up.” Levi patiently waits for the explosion of disbelief. He is not disappointed.

“I’m sorry, _what?”_

“Did he just say _first_ warm-up?”

“No way!”

_“Outside?”_

“It’s already 8pm! It's so _dark_ out!”

“I thought we already warmed up!”

“Not like this,” Levi replies to the last statement. Everyone groans in response, except, Levi notes, the late woman with the raven hair. In fact, ever since she’d joined the class, she’s been oddly quiet. He’d thought that out of all of them, she’d be the one to make a fuss due to the indiscreet glares she’d give him every ten seconds. 

Levi leads them outside and sets a slower jogging pace than normal for the students’ sake, Four Eyes at the end of the line to make sure no no one lagged. The sky is already dark, but the street lights and lamps around Erwin’s gym emit enough light to illuminate half a football field. He can hear a couple students grumble, but they learn pretty quickly that it’s a waste of their breaths to continue. Within minutes, all he hears is heavy breathing and the footfalls of his students as they quickly find a steady pace to follow him.

Satisfied after five laps around the gym, Levi leads them back to the regular room. Everyone is winded except for him, Four Eyes, and the raven-haired woman— though at this point, he’s not really that surprised— and by the looks on most of their faces, they’re dreading the next warm-up he’s concocted. 

_‘They’re right to be worried,’_ Levi thinks before ruthlessly plunging them into sets of dynamic workouts. They go through a mix of jumping jacks, high knees, lunges, squat kicks, sit ups, push ups, and burpees, all meant to get his heart-rate up, but by the looks of his students, half of them are well on their way to passing out.

Feeling pity and the slightest bit of amusement, he lets them catch their breaths and take a sip of water for a few minutes before demanding that everyone partner up. They form five total pairs, leaving the raven-haired woman— _w_ _ho was still wearing that damn scarf how did he not notice, it’s literally right fucking **there** — _with no partner. He and Hange exchange looks, non-verbally agreeing that Four Eyes be the one to partner up with her. 

Circling around the room, Levi says, “We’ll be reviewing the punches we did earlier. This is why I don’t want you to be late for lessons— you will miss important information.” It’s an obvious dig at the tardiness of one certain scarf woman he still does not know the name of, and he doesn’t bother checking her reaction. By the slight chill that runs down his neck, Levi knows that she’s practically spitting daggers at him. 

“One partner punches, jabs, or kicks— try to vary things up and don't fall into a rhythm; that's not quite how real-life works. The other partner dodges or blocks. Anticipate each other's moves. And make sure to put power behind those punches, you fucking twigs. Switch when I tell you to. Begin.” 

With his hands behind his back, Levi settles back to watch his students punch, or more accurately, try to punch. The two maybe-18-year-olds are partnered together, and the one who is punching is weak, but his technique had gotten better compared to earlier. His partner blocks pretty quickly, with some minor mistakes Levi swiftly rectifies, but her dodges look awkward. It’s a similar situation with the next sets of partners. There’s really not much he can do, though. In his experience, power and adroitness are things to be learned, not taught. 

When he moves on to Four Eyes and Scarfface, he immediately notices the difference, impressed. Unlike his other students who stand like posts, legs shoulder-width apart or in a pitiful variation of a fighting stance, the woman had settled into a solid, strong stance despite joining in an hour after the lesson started. Raw power fuels her punches and kicks, fists and feet cutting through the air like a knife cuts through soft butter. He could tell by the grin Hange, a former soldier and senior officer, wears that Four Eyes is impressed too; the jabs, punches, kicks, blocks and dodges the two exchange are reminiscent of when Levi, Erwin, and Hange would all spar together to keep up their fitness.

A couple of students even stop to watch Scarfface and Four Eyes's exchange, but with a quick warning glare pointed at their direction, turn back to their own respective partners.

Surveying the woman and her technique, Levi wonders how Scarfface will fare a couple weeks from now, when he’s planning on adding a sparring session every other Friday.

They spend the rest of the lesson with partners, practicing and applying the basic punches, blocks, and kicks he’d taught them earlier, and then trying a couple self-defense techniques like wrist release and getting out of choke holds. Levi could tell two of the younger students are getting increasingly frustrated, and he predicts they’d last for a couple weeks at the most before dropping out. 

When the clock ticks ‘21:45,’ Levi orders everyone to form a single file line for meditation, backs facing the glass doors connecting to the gym, and instructs them to sit down in _seiza,_ a formal way of sitting he’d learned while stationed at a Hizuru island-territory. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Levi notices Scarfface jolt to attention, and he briefly wonders if she's familiar with Asian martial arts culture. By the way she handled herself tonight, he suspects Scarfface already had prior experience in this or another combat sport, though which one, he’s not quite sure of. 

Turning his attention back to his students, he says, “Remember to breathe in and out deeply. Try to block out all the outside noise and your own thoughts; focus on your breathing if you think it will help. It’ll be difficult, but in the end, if done correctly, it will help you out mentally.”

After being discharged, meditation had helped Levi center himself after nightmares and bouts of panic attacks. From there, it quickly became a regular part of his life. Seeing its benefits, he'd incorporated meditation into his other classes, even if the younger kids had a hard time keeping still. He figured that a class with older students, all adults themselves, would appreciate the addition more than his regular, younger students had.

Once a minute passes and everyone is back on their feet, Levi explains that if they were still interested in continuing the class, then to let him or Erwin know so either man could order rank belts and more fitting uniforms. Everyone seems interested and enthusiastic, even Scarfface and the two frustrated students from earlier, which gives Levi hope for continuing this particular class.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Levi adds when he sees three students make their way into the closet containing the chairs and cleaning supplies. “For the next three weeks, _you”_ — he aggressively points to Scarfface— “will be cleaning up after each class as punishment for being late. Class dismissed. I’ll see the rest of you at seven tomorrow night.”

He notices a few students look confused on their way out, but Scarfface is practically foaming at the mouth. Shitty Glasses stands somewhere behind him near the double glass doors, no doubt excited for the oncoming showdown between the two. Addressing the seething woman, Levi asks, bored, “What is it, brat?” 

“With all due respect, _sir,_ I don’t think I’m obligated to stay.”

“Oh?” Levi stalks towards her, dark eyes meeting hers. “Am I not the instructor here?” The woman opens her mouth to retort, but Levi plunges on, “You’d missed it, since you were _late_ for an entire fucking _hour,_ but earlier, I made it specifically clear that discipline and martial arts go hand in hand. Helping clean this room is one such way to _build_ discipline. And, because you were late— for your first class, _if I might add—_ then it’s only fitting that _you_ be the one to clean after class ends instead.”

“I told you _sir,”_ the woman spits, “my class ran late, and I’d missed the bus. I was not late out of my own volition, _sir."_

“Not my problem,” Levi says casually, shrugging, turning away from her and walking away from the conversation. “Now clean, or you’ll be stuck here all night. Cleaning supplies are in that closet.”

He feels rather than hears her sprint in his direction. He barely manages to avoid her fist— _holy shit, she’s faster than he’d thought she’d be—_ but Levi has had decades of fighting experience under his belt, more experience in fighting than she has lived in years. Fight is practically ingrained in his bones, runs through his blood. 

He narrowly dodges the kick aimed at his injured leg— if he wasn't so pissed and in pain from landing on his leg a bit awkwardly, he’d be amazed that she noticed his weak spot to target. Now truly incensed, he grabs her other wrist flying towards his face, and, in one swift motion, flips her onto the hard floor. She quickly bends to protect her head and angles her body to lessen the impact of falling. Levi refuses to admit that it impresses him just the tiniest bit and instead focuses on the anger brewing in his gut.

Looming over her, he hisses, “Do not, _in any circumstances,_ attack an unsuspecting person when their backs are on you. _Especially_ not an injured war veteran such as myself. Is that understood, brat?”

Something like shock and remorse flashes in her eyes before the regular blank look returns. She gives a short nod. One more time, he walks away, pissed, and very much intending on leaving her on the cold hard floor, before he hears a very quiet, “I’m sorry.”

He stops in his tracks, hand lingering on the handle of the glass doors, wondering if he heard correctly. “What was that?” He looks back at her.

“I won’t do it again. I won't attack you again, sir,” the woman says, already back at her feet. The scarf covers her mouth, face angled towards the floor, and her hair blocks him from seeing her grey eyes. 

Though pride no doubt prevents her from repeating her previous words, still, he recognizes the weight of regret in her stance. “Good,” he says then after a moment's deliberation, pivots and walks toward the closet. “Now hurry the fuck up brat. I don’t have all night, and I’m sure your broke college student ass doesn’t have all night either.” 

When he emerges holding a broom and passes her, he wonders if he’d imagined the slightest upturn to her lips.

* * *

The next day, he finds out through Erwin that Scarfface’s name is Mikasa Ackerman. By the amused look on his face, though, Levi guesses that Hange told him a very detailed account of what had happened during the first lesson. 

Three weeks pass by quickly, then five, then ten, and he’s surprised at how much he’s looking forward to each lesson with the older students. The two youngest, Isabel and Farlan, 18 and 19 respectively, somehow get over their fear of him and continually pester him with question after question after question. He wants to say they annoy him, but then, he really wouldn’t be honest to himself. Besides, their questions aren’t _always_ stupid.

Petra, Eld, Oluo, and Gunther are all college friends. Petra, the youngest at 22, is in her last year undergrad as a Public Health major. Eld and Gunther, both 24, had graduated a a year before her and would start their first year of grad school the semester after Petra graduates— almost a year from now. Meanwhile, Oluo, 23, is taking an extra year in undergrad for “being an ambitious asshole and biting off more than he could chew” (Eld’s words, not his). They are all friendly and boisterous, quick to invite Farlan, Isabel, and even Mikasa into the group (Levi overheard them making plans on meeting over the weekend). Frankly, it was refreshing to see that hopeful naïveté of young adults ready to conquer the world with their drive and intelligence.

Onyankopon, an expat engineer from a former Marleyan colony, is a serious 35-year-old man with intelligent ideas and a sharp mind. He and Hange have quickly developed a budding friendship over their shared love of technology and scientific advancements, which admittedly freaks Levi out. One experiment-obsessed Hange he could tolerate, but two? Levi shivers at the mere thought.

Raima and Emilie are first cousins but practically grew up together like siblings. Younger-than-he-looks Raima, a 34-year-old “very happily married” microbiologist, is trying to get younger, shyer, 29-year-old Emilie into other activities outside of her PhD classes. They don't readily talk often, but they like to engage in conversation and even laugh boisterously at the antics of the younger adults.

Mattheo, the oldest at 48, almost 49, would often bring his grandkids in the beginning of some lessons before his daughter would pick them up, usually during breaks. Levi doesn’t mind, as the kids would often fall asleep on the chairs and don’t really disturb the atmosphere of the class. Plus, everyone seems to love seeing and showing off in front of the kids; few of the students seem to fare better in their attempts at impressing the children.

Because of their busy schedules, however, Levi doesn’t see Raima, Emilie, and Mattheo as often as he would like. All three seem to enjoy the class well enough to continue, and they attend whenever they’re able. Likewise, they pick up new material pretty quickly and adeptly, making it clear to Levi that they practice in their free time. If they have any questions regarding previous techniques, they make sure to ask him after class so they don't disturb the flow of the lesson.

As for Mikasa Ackerman…

Well, Levi gets to know Mikasa in their talks accompanying their weekly cleaning sessions ~~but not nearly enough, Levi decides~~. Although in the beginning Levi had demanded that she clean after every lesson for three weeks, it had since then become somewhat of a ritual for the duo to clean the floors after everyone had already left instead. 

Despite their troublesome first meeting, the time the two spend quickly develops their unfriendly relationship into quiet, easy camaraderie and— dare he say it— _friendship_ , and he appreciates this new development too much to let it go. So, Levi, refusing to relinquish his time with an interesting student he sees as his semi-equal ~~and _nothing more,_ Shitty Glasses~~, just stays to help her clean after each lesson with her. Interestingly enough, Mikasa herself doesn’t seem too concerned about staying afterwards to clean for half an hour either. 

No one in the class seems to mind Levi’s change of rules, but he would often see Shitty Glasses, Isabel, Farlan, Petra and even _Gunther_ send him sly looks whenever he’d interact with Mikasa, from talking to cleaning to even _sparring._ Nosy bastards. So what if he likes sparring with Mikasa? ~~She challenges him, but not by much, obviously.~~ No matter how much Shitty Glasses pesters him, he only spars with Mikasa because he wants to knock her arrogance down a peg or two, _okay?_

A conversation he’d overheard between her and Petra about a difficult assignment for their Biochem class supports what Levi already knows— Mikasa attends Rose University, the same university Petra, Oluo, Eld, and Gunther all attend. It’s about a fifteen-minute drive away and a pretty competitive school to get into.

From this, he knows that Mikasa is highly intelligent, if her acceptance to Rose and being a second-year in an advanced Biochemistry class are any indication. She’s “double-majoring in Hizuru/Asian culture and political science with a focus on global politics/international relations” on pre-med track, which is why she’s taking biochem this semester. 

Honestly, even to him, someone who’d been in the military since he was sixteen and gotten an online degree within those years, it sounds like a lot. But, Mikasa wants to be a doctor, and she had taken enough AP and college classes in high school for her to fit in a minor and second major. 

“It’s to help me look great on med school apps,” she’d told him once. 

(He remembers when Mikasa had accidentally revealed she’d wanted to be a doctor. 

As a former soldier who’d sustained several injuries, Levi would often feel pain in his leg and in areas where wounds healed over into scars. While they were cleaning, Mikasa somehow noticed his discomfort— he’d thought he had hidden it pretty well— figured out his old injuries were still bothering him, forced him to sit down, and demanded to know if he’d told his doctor about the pains. 

Her pesky questions forced a confession from him that no, he never told his doctor because he doesn’t _like_ going to the doctor's. Levi can still see the clear affront on her face, and it still causes him to snort like he had that night. Mikasa then basically verbally abused him for what felt like hours, forcing him to promise to consult a doctor, and proceeded to fucking _manhandle_ his leg and actually massage it. 

“I’m showing you what to do if your leg or muscles hurt again, old man,” Mikasa had said in response to his look, rolling her eyes.

“Thank you?” Her fingers dug into a particularly painful spot, and he released a hiss, trying and failing to shake his leg out from her grasp. “Ow! Fuck! Watch what you’re doing, fucking dumbass!” 

“Oh, I know what I’m doing, _Captain.”_ He’d let it slip once that he’d been a squad captain prior to discharge and since then, Mikasa would use the title to mock him or when she's pissed at him. Weirdly enough, it doesn’t bother Levi as much as it should have, honestly.

“Oh do you?” he’d growled at her even once the initial pain subsided into relief and— dare he say it— pleasure.

“Yes, _sir,_ I do. I’ve always wanted to be a doctor, and my adoptive father taught me this technique before he passed,” Mikasa said, Levi filing her words away.

"You want to be a doctor?" Levi inquired, fascinated. 

Mikasa paused, nodding and glancing up at him shyly ~~and _oh **fuck** him,_ if that doesn't cause his heart to beat like a goddamn war drum on steroids.~~ "Yeah, pre-med track," she confirmed quietly, burrowing her chin into that ratty old scarf of hers, a thing she always does when she’s nervous or self-conscious, Levi realized. That little action once again brought his attention to the old thing, and Mikasa, ever the observant brat, noticed him staring. Her fingers stopped in their ministrations, very nearly causing a whine to escape his throat. Levi would rather sacrifice an entire year’s worth of tea than admit he liked her massage. 

Mikasa’s hands grasped her scarf before she tugged it up past her mouth and over her cheeks. He saw the faintest hint of a blush before she replied brusquely, ”It’s Eren’s. He gave it to me when we were kids.”

 _‘Who the flying_ ** _fuck_ ** _is **Eren**?’_ he wanted to ask. Luckily, he had years of experience in self-control and keeping a calm facade—

“Eren is my brother,” Mikasa said, sliding him a look. _Apparently, not nearly enough experience,_ Levi thought, if he’d said his thoughts aloud like an impulsive toddler or worse, she’d read something on his normally-blank, unreadable face. 

“Adoptive,” Mikasa clarified as an afterthought. 

Hearing that, though, it’d felt like a weight lifted from his shoulders. To this day, he refuses to acknowledge the possible reasons why.)

Another thing about Mikasa that piqued his interest is _why_ she’s even taking this particular martial arts class. The other students have either told him their reasons, or he’d deduced it from previous conversations.

Isabel and Farlan took it out of pure interest and because they didn't have much else to do outside of academics; Petra, Eld, Oluo, and Gunther all want to do something together and to maintain their health— _“Gotta combat those College 15s,”_ Oluo had joked, earning groans from all his friends— Raima and Emilie need an outlet for creative expression due to an academically-rigorous lifestyle; Onyankopon and Mattheo want to build their physicality and be more athletic in otherwise static jobs. 

Levi knows for sure it’s not because Mikasa has nothing else to do. He's aware how busy the brat is. Hell, he even knows some of her schedule after Mikasa explained why she was late the first day. Every Tuesday, Mikasa’s last class— War, Morality, and Society— ends at six, but her professor has a tendency to go off into long, albeit entertaining tangents. However, because it’s a well-loved professor, no one seems to mind, and the tangents themselves “are always interesting and informative to listen to.” 

Wednesdays, her last class ends at two, but she has a council meeting immediately after and a Red Cross club meeting at four-thirty. Fridays, she has a three-hour soul-sucking lab early in the morning— "an anatomy lab that's supposed to be _one unit,"_ Petra and Mikasa say in absolute indignation with green tinges to their faces— and a four-to-five-hour shift at an on-campus cafe that starts 11am. 

So, from this knowledge, coupled with her rigorous academic schedule, it’s obvious Mikasa is a busy person. 

And yet, ever since the first day of lessons, she would often be the first one to arrive, even before himself, going over the self-defense techniques and stances from the previous day(s). Levi would monitor and at times correct her progress, and he quickly concluded that she _definitely_ had prior experience in martial arts or combat sport; in fact, she's well on her way to advanced level going by her rapid progress. He wonders why Mikasa would take a beginner-to-intermediate course then, if that were the case.

Hell, during the class’s first sparring session and every one after, Levi actually found himself _enjoying_ the spar between him and Mikasa. He’d beaten her each time in the end, undoubtedly, but he hadn’t really felt the thrill of meeting a semi-equal opponent in a long time.

Levi once considered just asking her outright during their weekly cleaning session, but something always stopped him. It might be because her reasons could be too personal for her to not have divulged anything, and he respects her sense of privacy enough to resist breaching a potentially sensitive topic. It might also be because he _really_ doesn’t want to acknowledge that he might actually care or be interested in Mikasa more than he does for his other students.

So, he just never asked her and left his question at that: unanswered. 

* * *

However, Levi gets his answer one night twelve weeks after the first lesson. 

When Levi opens the room adjacent to the gym where he holds his classes, he expects to see Mikasa already inside going over the previous class’s techniques. When she isn’t there, he pretends he's not disappointed and begins to set up the mats for today’s class: take downs. He knows that Eld, Farlan, and Isabel would be interested in that particular part of the lesson. 

One by one, his students filter in, the younger ones— read: Isabel— especially greeting him with enthusiasm. Once the clock turns 19:00, though, Mikasa still hasn’t arrived, and it takes everything in Levi to ignore the uneasy feeling he’s… feeling. 

The class sans Mikasa stretch, go directly into jogging and dynamic warm-ups, review and apply the techniques from last class, then take a quick water break. One-and-a-half hours pass, and Mikasa still hasn’t arrived. He could tell that Isabel and Petra, both of whom are the closest to Mikasa besides himself, are getting worried too. 

When they’re just starting to review a new technique past 20:40, he sees Mikasa slip into the room like a fucking ghost and collapse onto a chair. Her hair is disheveled, and her scarf, normally wound tight around her neck, hangs loose. She looks agitated and antsy, her foot tapping the floor and fingers drumming against her thigh, making _him_ agitated. He wonders why Mikasa is late and if something happened that caused such an uncharacteristic frazzled entrance.

 _‘She better have a good fucking reason for being late,’_ Levi grouses, roughly throwing Oluo onto the mats, shoving the worry for Mikasa far, far away from conscious thought. He tells everyone to practice with their partners— “Slowly, though and make sure you don’t break your partner’s bones,” Levi warns— and walks to where Mikasa is now stretching in the corner.

“Oi brat,” he says in greeting. 

Mikasa looks up at him from her stretch. Levi takes note of her tense body, and the walls in her grey eyes causes his chest to twist. He’s never seen Mikasa so… agitated. _‘Fuckity fuck fuck fuck,’_ Levi thinks. _‘Since when was I_ **_this_ ** _attentive to a single student?’_

He shoves his thoughts and internal conflict aside and tells her coolly, “We’ll be sparring in ten minutes for the rest of the lesson. Hurry up with your stretches and do your warm ups. You’ll be up first against me.”

Ten minutes later, when Mikasa is up against him for sparring, Levi notices that she favors her left side, her dodges are slower and punches slightly weaker. To anyone else, she’s still pretty good, but to Levi, the difference is clear as day.

 _‘Something is definitely up,’_ Levi thinks, tapping her side to indicate defeat and frowning even more when he sees the smallest flinch.

The rest of the class is a blur, and he barely remembers bidding good night to Isabel, Farlan, Petra, and Oluo, the four often last to leave. His focus is all on Mikasa, who is back to sitting on a chair, the back of her head touching the wall, eyes turned on the ceiling but with a look faraway from where she sits physically. 

He takes a seat next to her.

“You want to explain your shitty performance today, brat?”

Mikasa doesn’t respond. Levi waits, either to give her time to form her words or to see if she’s willing to talk about it. When she continues her radio silence, however, it becomes increasingly clear to Levi that she just doesn’t want to talk. 

He scowls. 

“Oi, brat, I’m talking to you.” He pokes her side, and his scowl deepens when she hisses in pain and glares at him. “Okay,” Levi snaps, hauling himself up in front of her to look dead into her grey eyes. “What is your problem?” Forcing his temper down and allowing a sliver of worry into his question, he asks, more gently this time, “What happened?”

Mikasa stares at him, her face unreadable before defeat glimmers from deep within her eyes. Levi patiently waits, knowing that instead of ignoring him, she’s now trying to form the right words to say. 

“After work, Armin and Eren dropped by after Eren’s last class,” she finally begins. “All three of us would often meet up every Friday for late lunch before Armin goes back to the research lab. Afterwards, I always take Eren to his therapist— it’s about a five minute walk away from Rose. Then, we either go to the library or the on-campus gym before I’d leave to come here.” Mikasa’s eyes flicker over to Levi. “I ran into some… trouble along the way. I’d taken care of it, pretty well, too, if I do say so myself.” A vicious glint in her eyes follows her words.

Levi’s lips thin at her bravado, but instinct nags at something in her story other than his worry for her, so he asks, “Why do you escort Eren before therapy?” Eren, from what Mikasa told him in the past, is 19-years-old and old enough to walk himself to his therapist. So, then, why _does_ Mikasa accompany him? He senses it’s something more complex than over-protectiveness. 

Mikasa stays quiet for a few moments before replying, “You remember what I told you about Eren and Armin, right?” 

“Yeah. Your annoying adoptive brother and his annoyingly smart best friend.” 

He knows that Mikasa’s parents died— how, though, he doesn’t know yet— and the Jaegers took her in when she was still a child. Then, about a year ago, when she was in her freshman college year and Eren in his senior year high school, Carla and Grisha Jaeger were caught up in a domestic terrorist attack and died. Armin’s grandfather took the two adoptive siblings in, and he knew that the Jaeger brat struggled with anger issues and depression since then. _‘Must be why he goes to therapy,’_ Levi surmises.

Currently, all three friends live together in an apartment ("Grandpa Arlert passed away in his old age," Mikasa had informed him solemnly), and the trio attend Rose University, with Mikasa a sophomore, and both Eren and Armin freshmen.

Mikasa’s lips tug up in a slight smile at Levi's description of her loved ones before it turns back into a frown. “Armin is one of the smartest guys I know, and one of the most timid,” she starts. “Unfortunately, it makes him an easy target, along with Eren for his issues.

"Some of the bullies in our neighborhood refuse to leave them alone, which is why we’ve developed a buddy system. It’s ridiculous that we even have to do that, but they never stop, and no one seems to care enough to help. Eren would always try to retaliate, and he’d always get beaten up in return. He’s determined to fight back, but he doesn’t really have the skill to back that determination up either.”

It dawns on him then, the reason why Mikasa takes time off her busy schedule for this class. “You’re taking this class to help them defend themselves,” Levi says. The class is centered around possible real-life situations, situations that Armin and Eren might face with the bullies. He’d only added the biweekly sparring sessions so his students have an opportunity to apply everything they’d learned. 

Mikasa’s surprised look confirms his suspicions. 

“But why don’t you just teach them what you already know? Or hell, enroll them in this class?” Some frustration slips into his voice. 

Mikasa fidgets with the frayed edges of her scarf. “I only know some _kata_ my mom taught me before she died. I don't know much else. As for them taking this class…” Mikasa sighs, shaking her head. 

“Schedule conflicts, mostly,” she explains, meeting his eyes briefly before glancing away. “Armin’s currently a research assistant for one of the faculty at Rose, and Eren has four sessions per week with a therapist and group for his depression and anger issues. 

“Right now, Eren and Armin take some free lessons at the gym on campus when they have the time, but I’m not satisfied with the class’s quality; it’s just not... _rigorous_ enough. Wings of Freedom is the only gym close to home and the university with genuinely good martial arts classes I can depend on. The next good one is two hours away from everything, so it’s more of a hassle to go since we don’t drive.”

It sounds like she’s done, but Levi takes in her tense, fidgety stance, thinks back to her performance in the terrible sparring session earlier. “You’re not telling me something,” he says, taking notice when her fingers playing with her scarf freeze. He can see something in her closed-up expression, though— something familiar— and the revelation sends his mind reeling with anger. 

“You never mentioned you were being harassed too, Mikasa.” 

The words come out in a calm, quiet snarl, raw, unadulterated fury lacing each one. Once again, Mikasa’s surprised look all but confirms what he already figured out. Agitated, Levi runs his fingers through his hair. 

Fucking hell. There really were bullies in every stage of life. There were bullies in childhood, bullies in high school, bullies in the workplace, bullies in government, bullies in war. 

Rubbing a hand over his face, Levi valiantly forces down the rising anger towards Mikasa’s harassers. She doesn’t need his fury right now, even if it isn’t directed at her. “Let me see them,” he says instead.

This catches her off-guard. “What?”

“Your injuries. You were favoring your left side while we were sparring.”

Surprise overtakes Mikasa’s expression again before amusement takes over. “You’re pretty astute for such an old man, _chibi_ _jiji.”_

Levi snorts, giving her a sideways look. “I have no idea what you just said, _peste,_ but I’m not _that_ old. And it comes with the territory. Military veteran— I worked in recon, remember?”

“How could I ever forget?" she drolls. "You remind me everyday when you defeat me at sparring.” Here, she pouts. _~~'Oh fucking shit, dirty old man, stop looking at her lips.'~~ _

_“And—_ I’m not a pest,” Mikasa adds, indignant.

Levi rolls his eyes skyward, scoffing. “Agree to disagree. And don’t think you’ve sufficiently distracted me, brat. Lift up your shirt, I need to see your ribs.”

When she gingerly lifts up her shirt though, Levi isn’t prepared to see the dark bruises littering her torso, her entire left side practically black-and-blue. Some type of opaque, viscous liquid covers the bruises, which Levi identifies by the smell as a salve for bruises. Despite knowing a light version of events, Levi couldn’t help but growl out through gritted teeth, “What the _fuck_ happened?” before taking a moment to compose himself and adding with a more controlled, lighter voice, 

“… _please_ tell me the guy who did this looks worse than this.”

Mikasa snorts. “You mean guys,” she corrects with a hint of pride. She doesn’t notice the way Levi stills and the fire that once again ignites in his eyes. “And yes, I left them in the alleyway. All unconscious.” She smirks, seeing something he doesn’t, likely the guys she’d apparently beaten up in a shady fucking corner. 

There’s a lot of conflicting emotions Levi’s feeling at the moment, so he focuses on pride and admiration for just a moment. “Good job. You’re finally using all those moves I’ve taught you correctly,” he says, and he _is_ proud that Mikasa defeated two-plus men single-handedly, if not currently stressed about the fact that Mikasa _defeated more than two men on her own._

“How many did you take down?” he manages to ask.

“Six,” Mikasa replies casually, like she's talking about the weather and not about the fact she’d taken down six men in a dark alleyway single-handedly. Levi grits his teeth, fists clenching.

Six. _Six_ fucking men were willing to ambush and attack an otherwise seemingly defenseless person at _dusk_ in the streets. Granted, he knows that Mikasa is nowhere _near_ defenseless, but those six fuckers sure didn’t. He supposes he should feel relief and pride knowing that Mikasa had had it handled, but he is still furious, still pissed that this had even happened in the first place. 

“...sir? Levi. Hey, Levi.” Mikasa’s light tapping on his right cheek brings him back to the present, and he meets her inquisitive eyes. “You zoned out on me for a second,” she explains.

Seemingly, in slow motion, her hand falls from his face. Throwing caution to the wind, he suddenly grabs her hand in mid-air. Mikasa freezes, staring at their joined hands before looking up at him, confused. “Mikasa,” he says quietly. “How do you get here from Rose? More importantly, how do you get back home?” He doesn’t remember Mikasa ever using a car, and he recalls the day they first met, when she claimed she’d missed her bus. In fact, Mikasa had said earlier that she, Eren, and Armin don't drive— either because they don't have the means to, or because they don't know how to.

Concern wells up in his gut at the implication. 

“I told you, I take a bus,” Mikasa replies slowly. “It’s about a five minute walk from the station to here.”

“And to your house?” Here, it’s Mikasa’s turn to pause. “Mikasa, don’t even think about lying to me,” he warns, frowning at her.

“Why are you so worried?” grumbles Mikasa, retrieving her hand from his grasp to defiantly cross her arms over her chest.

That’s a good question, actually, but he tells himself that it’s because he’s worried for a student of his and tells her as such. Mikasa seems to accept his reason well enough and replies succinctly, “I walk.” 

_‘Yes, I gathered that,’_ Levi thinks to himself, resisting the urge to throttle her defiant ass and ~~kiss her~~. 

“And how far away do you live from here?” he asks as patiently as he could. Really, he wants to know, _‘Does anyone even come to pick you up? If not, then...’_

The way Mikasa glares at him takes Levi back to the day they first met. “Not far.”

He can feel the beginnings of a headache begin to form. “Mikasa. _How far.”_

She pauses. “… Five minutes.”

His eyes narrow into slits, and he pokes her shoulder. “Oi. That’s not helpful, brat.” They glare at each other some more, neither willing to back down. Moments later, quickly deciding that this isn't worth his time, Levi stands. A brief look of triumph flashes across Mikasa’s face before she calls out to him,

“Where are you going?”

“To look for Erwin.”

“… Why?”

“So I can get the information you put down when you signed up for this class.” _‘So I can know_ **_your_ ** _address,’_ are the unspoken words.

“Are you _serious?”_

“Very.”

“Fine!” yells Mikasa. Keeping his back on her, Levi hides a victorious smirk. “It’s about 4 miles away from here, maybe less. The apartments near the Reiss park.”

Levi whirls around then, his jaw nearly dropping. “That’s a _30-minute_ walk away!” he squawks. _'At nighttime too_ _!'_ his mind reminds him rather unhelpfully.

“I run.”

“You said you walked!”

“I lied.”

 _“_ Mikasa—”

“Look, _Captain_ ,” Mikasa interrupts, raising her scarf over her lips. She fiddles with the scarf before continuing, “I appreciate your concern, Levi— I really do, but I’ve been doing this for _weeks_ now. I haven’t run into any problems so far. Seriously.”

“Except today,” Levi retorts in disbelief. “Mikasa, you were ambushed by _six men._ Your bullies, I’m guessing? That means they were _following_ you—”

“Not this time. And it was still light out, not at night, so don't even worry about that,” Mikasa cuts in, annoyed, and not a second after, realizes her mistake.

 _“This time?”_ Levi repeats, slowly. Oh, _there’s_ the headache. Great. “As in… more than one occasion?” He tests the words on his tongue and decides he rather hates the taste of their implication.

A subdued, strangled groan wrestles itself from Mikasa’s throat, and the back of her head thunks against the wall. Through the anger rushing in his ears, he hears her mutter, “I _really_ don’t need this tonight.”

 _‘Tough luck, my idiotic brat,'_ he thinks. He refuses to let this matter go. “Explain,” he demands, plopping down on the chair next to her. “Do you know who those men were? More importantly, you’re being followed?”

“No, I'm not,” Mikasa quickly rectifies. “Me, Eren, Armin— we’ve never been followed. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Still not reassuring. “Mikasa.”

“This is an isolated incident, _Captain,”_ Mikasa seethes. “The ones who attacked me today are not the ones who harass me, Eren, and Armin. Some of our bullies from high school go to Rose University, yes; some of them live in our neighborhood, yes. But outside of the physical altercations and verbal cat fights, our _bullies_ haven’t done much to us otherwise.”

“If that's the case, why take self-defense classes?” Levi demands. “I feel like you’re not giving me the whole story here, Mikasa.”

They continue to glare at each other even more for a few minutes before something in Mikasa wilts. Pressing her nose to her scarf, she confesses in a meek voice, “We don't.... Me, Eren, Armin— we don’t feel safe. Not really. Not anymore. We take as many lessons as we can so we're strong enough to fight back.”

Levi’s heart drops. Mikasa Ackerman is strong— he can attest to this, has personally seen her strength and growth in the past couple months. To hear this confession, to hear of her vulnerability… it tugs at his heart. It _hurts_ him to see her like this, like she’s defeated, lost, confused because he’s never seen her other than stubborn and hardheaded. 

Walking over, Levi sits next to Mikasa, angling his body towards her, both elbows on his thighs, fingers threaded together. “Have you filed a report to the MP?” he asks softly, meeting her eyes. He already knows the answer before Mikasa replies, though.

Snorting, Mikasa shakes her head. “I’ve tried. They’re really not much help. Me, Eren, and Armin aren’t rich enough to pay them for their attention.”

This is the sad reality, Levi thinks grimly. For all their glory and proud claims of duties of helping the civilian population in Paradis, the Military Police is built for the rich, for the ones who could “afford” them. Though technically a branch of the Paradis military and the Crown's right hand meant to assist civilians and ensure their safety, the mishandling, lack of oversight, and rampant corruption within the MP often leave cases and reports unanswered or incomplete. Unless, of course, someone possesses the means to bribe the local MP branch to focus on their particular case, which Mikasa, Armin, and Eren don't have as college students scraping by with their jobs and the inheritances left over by their passed relatives. 

Levi rakes a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do next. He doesn’t know how often Mikasa and her two friends are harassed, but apparently, it’s enough for her to add something to her busy schedule and take martial arts three times a week for three hours each. Whether or not Mikasa runs into bullies on her way home from class— both in Erwin's gym and from Rose— Levi doesn’t know, but he guesses from her story and body language that if it hadn’t already happened before, then she’s daunted or worse, _terrified_ over that possibility. 

_Shit,_ he really doesn’t like that the sound of that. 

And _fuck_ , even tougher to swallow— in the past weeks, he'd been selfish in his want to spend time with her that he hadn't even thought about her _safety._ Guilt gnaws at his chest, but his mind tries to think of a compromise, a solution to this problem. Then, it hits him like a sledgehammer.

“I should drop you off.”

The words fall off his tongue before he can think it through. In the following silence, however, Levi quickly realizes that yes, this is something he’s actually willing to do. ~~For _Mikasa_ , he realizes.~~

“I should drop you off,” Levi repeats, nodding decidedly, tone sure and resolute. “After every class, I’ll take you home so you'd feel safe.” Mikasa stares at him, wide-eyed. She starts shaking her head, and before Mikasa could verbally refuse him, Levi soldiers on, “I won’t do it every day, brat. Only after every lesson here. On Mondays and Thursdays, though, you’re on your own.” Remembering that Petra, Oluo, Eld, and Gunther all go to Rose University, he proposes, “You should ask Petra if she can drop you, Eren, and Armin off to your apartment after you're all done with everything.”

“No,” Mikasa says, shaking her head. “I don’t want to bother her or tell her about our situation.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Idiot, Petra _likes_ you. She probably thinks you two are friends already. She won’t mind. You and I know she won't.” Mikasa still looks reluctant and reticent. “Look, if you really feel uncomfortable, buy her some coffee and a sandwich from where you work. That shit’s expensive. Good, but too damn expensive.”

Mikasa stares at him for what seems like both hours and nanoseconds all at once before hiding a smile behind her scarf. “How would you know if what we serve is _good?”_ she teases, voice muffled by her scarf.

Levi’s mouth dries. Ah, _shit_. “I just... I assumed, okay? And coffee and food on college campuses in general is expensive, don't at me,” he snaps, the slang he often hears from Isabel suddenly slipping from his tongue.

Agitated, Levi abruptly rockets up from his seat. Crossing his arms and commanding the most superior attitude he could, Levi barks out, “Put away the chairs and clean up. I’ll get my car and park closer here.” He storms away before Mikasa can reply, but after a quick glance back, he’s pretty sure Mikasa is silently laughing at him as she’s stacking the chairs.

Once in the main gym, Levi leans against the employee lounge’s door and presses his palm to his forehead, heart thudding against his chest. “I'm a fucking idiot,” he mutters to himself, eyes closed, shaking his head. 

“You’re only realizing this now?” Erwin’s airy tone that accompanies every joking barb causes Levi to snap to attention. Tilting his head to the side, the blond glances at the double glass doors Levi escaped from, blue eyes alight from amusement. “Or did a certain _someone_ help with that little epiphany?” he taunts lightly.

Levi decides to ignore the annoying blond— frankly, he doesn’t know how and why he bothers to put up with the blond’s and Shitty Glasses’s antics every day— and enters the employee’s lounge, where his locker is located. Erwin follows his every step, and damn if the blond’s cocky attitude doesn’t annoy the fuck out of Levi.

“What are you doing?” Erwin asks politely. _'Politely my ass,'_ Levi thinks, swinging his locker open with more force than necessary.

“Keys,” Levi says.

“You're _doing_ your keys?” By the tone in Erwin's voice, Levi surmises that he's on the verge of laughter, _the **fucker**._

“No,” Levi seethes. “I'm _getting_ my keys. Happy?”

“What do you need your keys for? It's only ten.” 

“... to get my car?” Slamming his locker shut, he glares at Erwin. “Why the sudden interrogation, Shitty Brains?” he demands.

Erwin snorts, following Levi back out to the main gym. “Why are you so defensive?” he shoots back.

“You have that _look_ on you, Erwin.” Levi vaguely gestures at his face. “The look you have whenever you know something I don’t. That look when you’re forming a plan I may or may not like inside that insidious mind of yours.”

The blond blinks at Levi innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says flippantly.

“Right. Of course.” Levi snorts, shaking his head. “Well, if you excuse me”— He holds up his keys, shaking them— “I’ll be leaving soon. See you tomorrow.” He turns around, intent on leaving this itchy feeling behind with Erwin, the plotting blond.

“Sounds good,” Erwin says casually. “Oh, and Levi?”

“What?”

“Remind me again: what’s my policy on employees dating clientele?”

Levi’s eyebrows twitch. “All that head trauma finally catching up to you?” He snorts, shaking his head. “You don’t have any, fuckwit!” he yells over his shoulder, heading towards the room where Mikasa still waits.

“My point _exactly_ ,” Erwin affirms, conviction echoing in the silence. Levi stiffens, freezing in his tracks, his mind racing a mile a minute.

Levi turns slowly back to Erwin. “I’m sorry,” he declares steadily, “I don’t think I understand what you mean.”

Smirking, Erwin shakes his head, tsking. “Oh Levi. You and I both know _exactly_ what I mean by that.” He levels Levi with a smug, knowing look, his icy blue eyes darting to the double glass doors, before turning on his heels and walking back to his office.

Sagging against a nearby wall, Levi drags a hand down his face. “Fucking hell,” he mumbles. “I should’ve read the damn fine print.”

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo.... how was it? 🥺 👉👈 
> 
> I'm thinking about keeping this a oneshot. I mean, it can go both ways. This can be the end, leave whatever happens after up to the reader's interpretation... _orrrr_ I can write out a second part showing what happens after. 
> 
> Not sure, honestly. If there's enough interest though, I can work on a second part whenever I have the time! 
> 
> Anywho, (shameless self-promotion coming up) feel free to yell at me on [my Tumblr](https://secret-trash-for-mikasasass.tumblr.com/)! I would love to talk with some fellow Rivamika fans! 😄


End file.
